


Some Things You Can't Help But Share

by AranthianPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AranthianPrincess/pseuds/AranthianPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author/Artist LJ Name: aether_sprite<br/>Songspiration: Heart of courage - Two Steps from Hell<br/>Prompter: frostywonder<br/>Title: Some Things You Can't Help But Share<br/>Prompt Number: #125<br/>Pairing(s): Harry/Draco<br/>Summary: Previously enemies, a sudden apocalypse throws Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together. Now they will discover who the true enemy is: The dead that stalk them or the living that survived.<br/>Rating: M (For ideas represented, not necessarily for descriptions thereof.)<br/>Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.<br/>Warning(s): AU – Canon Divergence, AU – Walking Dead Fusion, Apocalypse, Zombies, Not Using the Z-Word, Depictions of Violence (whether they're graphic or not really depends on the reader, generalized descriptions of violence and the aftermath of violence used)<br/>Epilogue compliant? No<br/>Word Count: 9,627 words</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things You Can't Help But Share

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Dear Mystery Prompter, I have to admit to loving your idea the instant I saw it. I grabbed up this prompt without ever having heard of the song or the artist because, I agree, I rarely daydream Harry/Draco scenarios without some form of action. (Although, I did choose all romantic songs for prompts, but the prompting time kinda sneaked up on me and I couldn't think of anything else. XP) Anyway, I tried to include everything you wanted, though I had intended this fic to be longer and have more action. Alas, deadlines are like prompts, trained in the art of the ninja and with a particular penchant for sneaking up on me. I did add something I'd been wanting to try for a while, tossing the HP characters into a situation where their magic is unlikely to help them. This prompt was the perfect opportunity to try it. And thus, a Walking Dead fusion. I hope you enjoy it!

Harry listened to his instructor with half an ear. He stood with the rest of his class in an empty field just outside London reserved solely for Ministry use, a lone tree marking the exact center of the property. The second year Auror class only occupied about half of it, sharing it with another group of people about their age. Harry thought they might be another group of students being trained for Ministry jobs, but he wasn't sure. At least the field was large enough that the two groups barely noticed each other, let alone got in each other's way.

 

The other group was the least of the Auror class's concerns, though. A few continued to pay attention to the instructor to the exclusion of all else, but several, like Harry, had grown distracted by something strange in the distance. The instructor hadn't seemed to notice, but Harry watched as a great plume of smoke erupted from the direction of the city followed by what sounded like the rumblings of thunder. Harry checked the sky curiously, but it was bright and clear, not a cloud in sight. Curious, he squinted into the distance, trying to discern even the slightest hint of what was happening.

 

The Auror instructor began to call for attention, having lost more than half the class to curiosity. Suddenly, his shouts were being drowned out by even louder yelling. Muggle cars sped away from the city and Harry could swear they raised dust clouds like in those action movies Dudley used to watch. A horde of people followed after them. Several short moments later a large group of pedestrians exploded out of the city. Some seemed to be running away, but others were definitely chasing. All of London looked to be in chaos.

 

“Sir? I think there's a problem,” one of Harry's classmates said, pointing toward the mass exodus. The instructor finally looked at what had stolen her students' attention and immediately began barking orders.

 

“Everyone, grab your group and get back to your assigned portkeys! We're getting back to the Ministry. Now!” She shouted.

 

The class jumped into action, groups forming and searching for their dropped portkeys. For the millionth time Harry wondered why these things weren't kept in somebody's pocket while they weren't being used. No, instead they were kept in a box the instructor brought along. People were grabbing whatever portkey they could reach while others looked for the one they came in with. The whole class crowding around the relatively small box didn't help matters either.

 

Harry skipped the panic-stricken mess, calling to his group leader to do the same, but the other man didn't hear him. Deciding there wasn't enough time to go back for him, Harry tried to warn as many people as he could. Several heard him and listened, opting to flee on foot or Apparate out, others didn't hear him or just ignored him completely and continued on. No one chose to follow him, though. There was nothing Harry could do about that now.

 

The running group was closer now, nearly right on top of Harry. He could see the situation more clearly now. The chasing group had caught up easily, grabbing onto those fleeing and pulling them to the ground without a problem and, if Harry could trust what his eyes were showing him, they began eating their victims. Entire groups fed on each downed civilian, those not already dead screaming loudly until they were. Some of the chasing group ignored the already fallen prey and carried on, heading for the shouting, panicked mass of Aurors-in-training.

 

Harry sprinted across the field, wand out and a Stunning Spell on his lips. He aimed for the nearest enemy and cast immediately. His enemy barely responded, stumbling once before shambling toward him at high speed, a deep, guttural groan unlike anything a normal human could make issuing from its throat.

 

The thing continued toward Harry, more intent than before, and had gained some friends. Harry jumped backward, dodging the leader's first attempt to grab him. He knew if he ended up on the ground it would be all over for him, so Harry circled around the side of the group, trying to find a clear bit of field to put at his back, but the moaning cannibals were swarming like particularly vicious insects. The only thing he could do was run and keep out of their reach.

 

It only took Harry a few seconds of employing this strategy to realize that he was faster than whatever was trying to kill him. A brilliant stroke of luck if he did say so himself. Unfortunately, his enemies decided he was too difficult to be considered prey and lost interest in him after a few minutes. His classmates, those that had been able to fight them off up until now at any rate, became their new focus. Several more Aurors-in-training fell, as well as their instructor.

 

Harry tried to save as many as he could, but all of his spells seemed to have little or no effect. The Jelly-Legs Jinx and the Leg-Locker Curse worked as they were meant to, but the creatures continued to drag themselves along the ground with their hands without a problem. They were just as dangerous as crawling as walking, so Harry switched to the Full-Body Bind. Not even fully immobilizing them seemed to last for long. He couldn't cast the spell on enough of them for it to be very effective because the bloody things never stopped moving. They invariably managed to wriggle out of the spell's hold and didn't even make good obstacles for their fellows, who just walked around or over the fallen.

 

Eventually, Harry decided to switch to more violent spells when he realized the usual restraining spells wouldn't work. Even the Confundus Charm had no effect. It was like he was facing a living stone wall. He reached deep into his memory, searching for a curse or hex that could help him and finally decided on one he had only ever used once.

 

“Sectumsempra!” He shouted, aiming at the largest group. Arms and legs fell off the creatures, and several even suffered complete or partial bisection, but none of them seemed to notice or care. “What the hell are these things?!”

 

Over the commotion, Harry heard an unfamiliar voice cry a very familiar spell. He spun to face the direction the sound had come from, finding the caster with no trouble. Well, finding where the caster most likely stood behind a roaring wall of flame surrounding him. It was the spell Dumbledore had used in Harry's sixth year to repel the Inferi, an impressive and clever show of magic, but it failed to even give these creatures pause.

 

Unhesitatingly, they shambled onward, passing through the flames without even a small, gasping intake of breath to show the fire at all pained them. Harry's nose wrinkled involuntarily at the sudden foul odor of burning flesh. A bloodcurdling scream followed almost immediately and the flames died out, dispersing on the wind and leaving behind a clear view of the caster being eaten alive.

 

Another wizard stood nearby, casting spells furiously at the creatures mauling his protector. Harry raced toward them, absently noting the spells the wizard still standing cast. They ranged from reasonable spells to use in such a situation, several ones Harry had already cast and found ineffective, to increasingly frantic and outlandish attempts. The man had grown so panicked that he began casting Unforgivables. Harry mentally admitted that they seemed like a viable option at the moment. Unfortunately, not even those seemed to have much of an effect.

 

“Crucio!” The wizard shouted, aiming at the creatures swarming over the now mercifully silent fallen man.

 

None of them seemed to notice or care about the excruciating pain that must have been coursing through their bodies. They did hear the man's shout, though, and several of the outlying creatures gave up their dead prey to start after the new target. The rest continued to rip the bloodied corpse to shreds, pulling out organs never meant to see the light of day and shoving the gory mess into their eager mouths. The other man, pale blond hair gleaming in the sun like a beacon, must have seen it too, because he whimpered and wretched. Harry looked up just in time to see him take several stumbling steps back, trying to flee the fire-blackened, still smoldering mass hunting him.

 

“Avada Kedavra!” The blond cried desperately. A green flash emitted from the end of his wand accompanied by the sound of rushing wind Harry knew was there, but couldn't hear, and struck one of the creatures dead on.

 

The thing didn't even slow down.

 

Now the wizard was screaming, barely coherent shouts for the things to go away, leave him alone, and drop dead already. There was something familiar about that voice and its owner, but Harry was too preoccupied with saving him to work out what, exactly, it was.

 

The man tripped, falling backward and still trying to scramble away while shouting. Harry briefly wondered what he thought that would accomplish. Did he think they would grow annoyed with him and leave if he screamed at them enough?

 

One of the creatures was upon the still scrambling wizard now, reaching out to grab him when Harry got there. He bent down on the run to snag the good-sized branch from a nearby tree the wizard had tripped over, then kicked away, and swung it hard into the creature's head. The thing immediately gave up its current prey to engage the new threat and Harry hit it again, once more aiming for the head. It collapsed inward, the skull giving way to a spray of blood and possibly brain.

 

The effect was instantaneous. The creature dropped like a log as soon as the second strike connected and nearly fell across the other wizard's legs before he quickly yanked them out of the way. Harry was already moving on to the next creature in line, using the branch to bash its brains in as well. His new weapon glistened with crimson blood in the sunlight.

 

“Who are you? What's happening?” The wizard, still on the ground behind Harry, demanded.

 

“Get up! We have to get out of here!” Harry shouted back. The surrounding screams had died away by now, but the blood pounding in his ears and adrenalin coursing through his veins made it difficult for him to modulate his voice normally.

 

He spun to confront one of the things coming up on his side and heard a gasp followed by someone scrambling in the grass. Harry finished taking out his current target and turned his head to see what had happened only to come face to face with the last person he had ever expected to see in such a situation.

 

“Potter?!”

 

“Malfoy?!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco stumbled, slapping Potter's hand away when the other reached out to steady him. It wouldn't have been necessary if Mr. Hero-Complex hadn't felt the need to grab him by the arm and unexpectedly Apparate him to – well, he didn't know where. Brow furrowing, Draco looked around and caught sight of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The Ministry of Magic. Potter had brought them to the Ministry of Magic.

 

“You want to explain this, Potter?” Draco sneered, not bothering to look at the other man.

 

“I thought it was obvious, Malfoy,” Potter said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

 

“Maybe it's obvious to brain-deficient Gryffindors, but I require a more intelligent explanation.”

 

“Fine,” Potter spat out. “See if this makes more sense to you. The Ministry of Magic is the hub of the entire wizarding world. We just encountered a threat to the wizarding world. That leaves two possibilities. One, they know nothing about it and we're going to warn them. Or two, they'll have more information on what those things were. Either way, this is the safest place for us at the moment.”

 

“If you say so, oh Saviour.”

 

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

 

“Your wish is my command, oh Great One,” Draco quipped, just catching Potter rolling his eyes. “Careful, Potter. We wouldn't want the Chosen One's eyes to become strained.”

 

Potter ignored him and stalked off. Not wanting to be left alone in the disturbingly empty cavern of a room, Draco hurried after him. No one was rushing through the corridors and there wasn't a crowd of people waiting for the lift when they reached it. On a good day, the whole place would be packed. Draco couldn't imagine what would have caused the Ministry to suddenly turn into a ghost town, especially considering the incident he had just escaped.

 

“Potter?”

 

“What is it now, Malfoy?” Potter sounded annoyed, but Draco ignored that in favor of pointing out the obvious flaw in Potter's plan.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Am I sure about what?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “That the sky is blue. Your plan, you dolt!”

 

“Of course I am,” Potter insisted.

 

“This doesn't look like the hub of anything, let alone the hub of the wizarding world,” Draco pointed out. “I haven't seen anybody since we Apparated in. Where did everyone go?”

 

Potter frowned as if this thought hadn't occurred to him and looked around, considering. “You're right.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course I'm right. I'm always right.”

 

“Watch your head there, Malfoy. Wouldn't want it getting so big you get stuck in the corridor with one of those maulers chasing you,” Potter practically sing-songed.

 

“Are you telling me the wizarding world's golden boy hero wouldn't come back to save little old me?”

 

“Not from those things.”

 

“What, the great Saviour hasn't faced Inferi before?”

 

Potter froze and turned slowly to stare at him. “Malfoy, those weren't Inferi.”

 

“What are you talking about? Of course they were,” Draco said, frowning. “They were obviously dead bodies walking around. That's what Inferi are.”

 

“Didn't you see them walk right through that fire? Inferi are made to fear fire and run from it. Those things didn't even flinch, just walked right through.”

 

Draco stared, horror slowly suffusing his thoughts. “They're not Inferi.”

 

“No.”

 

“Then what are they?”

 

Potter shook his head. “I don't really know,” he said. “There's this Muggle horror story, some even considered it prophetic, but they were laughed at and dismissed by the rest. Looks like they were right after all.”

 

“Whatever are you mumbling about, Potter?” Draco demanded, impatient. “Just spit it out already.”

 

“The story goes that newly dead corpses are reanimated spontaneously through some kind of virus and run around trying to eat people's brains.”

 

Draco scoffed at that. “Really, Potter? That's your explanation? The living dead randomly reanimated just to eat our brains?”

 

“Do you have a better explanation?” Potter challenged. Draco didn't. “That's what I thought. Come on. There might be someone on the Auror Department level.”

 

Potter headed off again, Draco trailing behind him in a cloud of irritation. Neither of them remembered to be concerned about the strangely deserted Ministry corridors and dead silence that permeated the air.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They went to step off the lift at the same time and Malfoy tossed him a dirty look when Harry pushed through first. There was no way he was letting an, as far as he knew, inexperienced civilian walk into a potentially dangerous situation first. Malfoy could scowl and mutter under his breath all he wanted, which he was. Harry just rolled his eyes when Malfoy wasn't looking.

 

“I knew Aurors spent a lot of time out of the office, but that's no reason to leave the place a mess,” Malfoy commented.

 

It was, indeed, a mess, but Harry knew it wasn't one born of laziness or lack of cleanliness. He told Malfoy as much.

 

“This isn't an ordinary mess, Malfoy. This is the result of a battle.”

 

“What are you talking about, Potter?”

 

Harry didn't roll his eyes this time, but only just. Malfoy may have been an annoying git, but he was right about trying not to strain his eyes. Instead, Harry pointed to several pieces of overturned furniture, desks and chairs littering the aisles between cubicles, and the large amount of red covering nearly every surface.

 

“Do you really think anyone would not right an overturned desk? Half of the furniture is in the aisles now. Even Aurors need to be able to get from place to place.”

 

“I just thought it was you Aurors' way of keeping everyone in shape,” Malfoy quipped. “It's just the kind of obstacle course I'd expect the Auror Department to come up with.”

 

Okay, Harry might have to deal with the eye strain. Malfoy was impossible.

 

“What about the blood everywhere?” He asked, voice one step below shouting. If anyone was still here, Harry would definitely have gotten several dirty looks, but no one popped their head up to reprimand him.

 

“Ambiance?” Malfoy suggested.

 

“You're impossible. I'm not dealing with this,” Harry declared and started climbing over the nearest desk blocking his path forward. “Go do whatever it is you do in emergency situations. I'm done.”

 

“You're just going to leave me here!” Malfoy shouted after him, stomping over to stand just before the blocked aisle Harry was already traversing. “The great Saviour would leave a civilian to fend for himself in an area we doesn't even know is safe during a crisis we don't know anything about?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said matter-of-factly. He was half way down the aisle when Malfoy started clambering after him.

 

“The hell you will,” he muttered under his breath, but Harry still heard him. “I'm coming with you.”

 

“Suit yourself, but no talking.”

 

“Fine,” Malfoy grumbled.

 

“I believe that counts as talking,” Harry said, smiling where Malfoy couldn't see. There was some more annoyed muttering that Harry couldn't make out, but Malfoy didn't comment further.

 

Harry waited for Malfoy to catch up, standing on the other side of the furniture-strewn aisle and looking around. He didn't see anything unusual, aside from more of the same. Malfoy finally joined him, not saying a word as Harry had ordered. He got the feeling Malfoy was trying to punish him for something, but Harry was just glad the prat wasn't chattering on incessantly.

 

“Come on. The Head Auror's office is this way,” Harry said. Malfoy muttered something about talking under his breath, but followed Harry's lead as he began picking his way down another cluttered aisle.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Oh, he gets to talk,” Draco muttered, following Potter down the next aisle.

 

The Prat-Who-Lived may have been the most annoying person Draco had ever had the misfortune of meeting, but his skills in Defense were practically as legendary as the man himself. Draco had heard rumors that Minister Shacklebolt had offered to induct Potter into the Auror ranks without sending him through training and only Potter's insistence that he be treated no differently from any other applicant kept him from becoming the youngest Auror ever. Of course, that was just a rumor. Draco didn't think Potter would ever have refused such an opportunity.

 

They wandered for several long minutes, Draco trailing behind Potter and definitely not sulking. The numerous desks and other large debris making the journey more laborious than it had any right to be. Several times Draco had to watch where he put his feet, quickly changing trajectory mid-step to avoid something wet and slimy. He tried hard not to think about it too much.

 

Other objects were less easy to ignore. There were obvious body parts, arms and legs, scattered about and bloodied pieces of what Draco was almost certain were dismembered torsos with the skin peeled off. He looked away, focusing on Potter's back to keep from accidentally seeing more of the carnage.

 

Potter, though, didn't seem to have any problem looking. He took it all in, the glimpses of his face Draco managed to catch suggesting his expression was carefully blank. Draco wondered if it was for his benefit, then dismissed the notion. Potter didn't care what he thought. It must be some kind of Auror training that kept him from vomiting like Draco desperately wanted to do.

 

He didn't know how long they spent clambering over things. They turned several corners, but Draco kept his gaze fixed on Potter to the exclusion of all else. In fact, he'd fallen into a bit of a daze, his brain functioning just enough to keep him from falling on his face. That was probably why he ran straight into Potter's very sturdy back when the git stopped suddenly.

 

“Bloody hell, Potter!”

 

Potter hissed at him to shut up, but it was too late. The reason for Potter's sudden stop had already heard his outburst. Several of the same creatures who had attacked them in the field crowded in the hall he and Potter had finally come to. They had simply been wandering aimlessly until Draco foolishly shouted at Potter, calling attention to them. Potter was shoving at him now, pushing him back the way they'd come.

 

“Go! Move!” Potter shouted at him, nearly shoving him over an overturned table in his haste. “Come on, Malfoy! Get going!”

 

Draco threw a leg over the table, climbing back over it and looking back while Potter was distracted to see the mob of maulers converging on them at an alarming rate. Logically, he knew they weren't moving any faster than the quick shamble of the first ones he'd encountered, but the enclosed space and short distance separating him from them made their speed seem higher. He stood petrified, frantically searching his brain for anything that could save him, but nothing came to mind. None of his spells worked, and if Potter was right, none would. How did one kill the living dead?

 

“Come on, Malfoy! Move! Run!”

 

Potter was shouting at him again, hand a vice around his upper arm dragging him bodily over the next obstacle. Draco did what he could to help, uncoordinated and stumbling as he crawled over desks and tables and kicked smaller objects, like chairs, out of his way. To be honest, Potter did most of the path clearing, but Draco thought he was doing well to keep up with him. He kept looking over his shoulder to check the maulers' progress. The distance between them wasn't closing, but it wasn't lengthening either.

 

“What are these things? What do they want?” Draco shouted. He started walking backward to keep an eye on them when he nearly fell. Only Potter's quick reflexes saved him.

 

“Don't look back! Just keep moving!”

 

Potter pushed him in front and shoved him forward whenever he felt Draco wasn't moving fast enough. He could practically feel their pursuers breathing down his neck and it kept him going when he misjudged his footing, slipping and tearing a huge wound in his calf, or when he skinned his palms catching himself when his momentum carried his upper body too far forward before his legs could follow.

 

Potter never slowed their pace. He kept up with Draco easily, occasionally pausing to throw smaller debris at the maulers in the hopes of slowing them down. Draco wasn't sure if he succeeded, but he didn't bother to stick around long enough to gather the appropriate data. In his hurry, Draco didn't notice the second group until they were nearly on top of it.

 

He screamed when a rotting hand grabbed his arm, yanking him clear off his feet and dragging him toward an open maw. Draco flailed, trying to wrench his arm out of the mauler's grip. It refused to let go and Draco began kicking wildly in a desperate attempt to get away. He was still screaming. That was when Potter came to his rescue again, swinging what looked to be a table leg he had probably ripped from one of the nearby tables and smashed the thing's head in.

 

“Get up! We've got to get out of here!” Potter ordered, bashing more heads in and dropping the maulers like flies.

 

Draco finally got himself free and joined the fray, Potter's ingenuity inspiring him. He drew his wand and aimed at the nearest clutch of maulers. “Confringo!”

 

The surrounding maulers were blasted back, losing limbs and other body parts as they were slammed into the wall with a fiery explosion. Unfortunately, they just got back up a little singed but none the worse for wear, though Draco noticed the ones who lost their heads stayed down. Potter was shouting at him again, yanking on his arm insistently.

 

“Come on! Let's go!”

 

Draco followed without hesitation. Occasionally, they had to pause to clear a path, Draco blasting the maulers grouped together and Potter taking out the lone ones with well-placed blows to the head. They worked surprisingly well as a team even if Draco did have to suffer through Potter's rather obvious advice of “aim for the head.”

 

Finally, they managed to make it back to the lift and shut themselves safely inside. Potter leaned against the back wall panting heavily and rested one end of the table leg he'd been wielding as a club on the floor. Draco refused to indulge in such pathetic displays. Instead choosing to remain standing mostly straight while he tried to control the tremors caused by the adrenaline rush receding.

 

“I don't think we'll find anything here,” Potter said. Draco just nodded, earning a weird look from Potter, but it cleared surprisingly quickly. “Maybe we should stick together for now? Safety in numbers and all that?”

 

Draco nodded again. He may not have liked Potter, but the man had managed to not only get himself out of two dangerous situations in as many hours, but Draco as well. There were many worse things in the world than sticking close to Potter for the time being. Besides, he definitely didn't want to be left alone in this strange new world.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry moved quickly, easily dodging around abandoned cars on the street and other debris he would rather not think about. Malfoy stuck close to him, hardly willing to leave Harry's side for a second, even to Apparate. Harry had Side-Alonged the oddly silent blond. At least it was better than his pompous chattering.

 

“Where are we?” Malfoy asked. Harry sighed mentally. He'd thought too soon.

 

“12 Grimmauld Place in London,” Harry answered quietly, tossing a pointed look over his shoulder that Malfoy ignored.

 

“Why?”

 

“It's where I live.”

 

“We're going to ground in your ancient house in the middle of Muggle London?” Malfoy asked, a bit too hopefully. Harry wondered why his home was Malfoy's idea of a safe house, but quickly dismissed the thought. No need in driving himself mad with impossible questions.

 

“Of course not. I wouldn't trust the wards against whatever these things are,” Harry said. “We have no idea if the wards would even affect them or how. I don't want to risk it. Best thing to do is keep moving. Get out of the city. You can tell they've been here and probably still are. They're are a lot of people in the cities.”

 

It was Malfoy's turn to give him a weird look. “Then why are we here? Feeling nostalgic?”

 

Harry badly wanted to tell Malfoy to shove off and leave him alone, but the other man's surprising ingenuity and the frankly alarming level of teamwork they achieved during their escape from the Ministry staid his tongue. “Supplies,” he bit out instead.

 

Malfoy grunted and Harry let them into the house. It looked to be untouched by the chaos they'd seen so far, but Harry remained wary even as he noticed Malfoy relax. Kreacher didn't appear when Harry called out for him tentatively. He worried the same fate had befallen the grumpy house-elf as the people attacked by the maulers. But maybe Kreacher had already fled to safety. Harry didn't really know all that much about house-elves to begin with, so he chose to hope for the best and get back to the task at hand.

 

He conjured two Muggle book bags and handed one to Malfoy, ordering him to follow. Malfoy grumbled, but reluctantly trailed Harry to his bedroom. Harry threw open the doors to his closet and yanked open the drawers. He started pulling out clothes; jeans, shirts, jackets, etc. and threw them on the bed.

 

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter?” Malfoy demanded, staring at him like he thought Harry had gone mad.

 

“We can't wear this stuff if we expect to survive out there,” Harry explained. “The robes especially will get in the way and make it harder for us than it needs to be.”

 

He looked Malfoy up and down. “Checking me out already, Potter? Not very noble of you. I'm still distressed from all the running and fighting for our lives.”

 

“I'm checking your size, Malfoy. No need to preen,” Harry said, throwing a pair of jeans and a shirt at him. “Those should fit you. Change and leave your old clothes here.”

 

“Would you like a strip tease while I'm at it?” Malfoy grumbled.

 

“If you feel the need, go ahead. Just make it quick.”

 

Malfoy muttered some more, but wandered off to change his clothes. Harry smirked when the man left the room, too shy to change in front of him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time Draco had finished changing, Potter was no longer in what Draco presumed was his bedroom. The mess had been left, though, along with Potter's Auror-in-training robes. Annoyed, he wandered back down the stairs and peeked into the entrance hall. Nothing. Draco growled. Where had that prat gone?

 

“In here, Malfoy,” Potter's voice floated out of a door Draco hadn't noticed at first.

 

Draco walked over to it and saw another set of stairs. Descending cautiously, wary of the dark, and found himself in a well-lit kitchen-slash-dining area. Potter had both the bags he'd conjured earlier. He was stuffing foodstuffs in one. The other lay mostly flat on the large table. Draco peered inside and noticed a small bundle of clothes in the bottom.

 

“Pack as much food as you can get in that bag. We probably won't need it, but you never know,” Potter ordered.

 

Draco seriously considered protesting Potter's assumption that he was in charge, but the logic behind the order made sense. He couldn't complain about it without making himself look like an idiot and that was something he refused to do in front of Potter. So, for now, Draco would take the orders and contribute to their continued survival.

 

“You didn't think about shrinking anything? You could fit more in the bags if you did,” Draco suggested helpfully. From the raised eyebrow, he didn't think Potter had missed the “you idiot” Draco had tried to keep from his tone.

 

“Feel free to shrink anything you want. Just don't lose your wand. I'm not enlarging everything again for you if you do.”

 

“Fine.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry dropped them right outside the Burrow. Like Grimmauld Place, the Weasley's home looked untouched. Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn't help getting his hopes up. Their first stop and he found his friends and surrogate family. Not even Malfoy's foul mood could dampen Harry's spirits as he led the way up to the door.

 

“You brought me here? They'll kill me.”

 

“No, they won't. Just try not to make any snide remarks about their wealth and you should be fine,” Harry said. “You're just as poor as they are now anyway.”

 

Malfoy flinched at that and stopped talking. Harry wondered if he'd struck a nerve, but decided he didn't care in the next moment when they reached the front door. He knocked and waited, heart pounding with excitement, for several seconds. No one answered or called out to enter. His spirits quickly sinking, Harry tried again with the same result.

 

“It doesn't look like anyone's home,” Malfoy quipped. “Maybe we can come back later.”

 

Harry ignored him and opened the door. It creaked eerily, revealing only darkness and a vague idea of general disarray. Harry drew his wand and lit the tip. Sure enough, the front room was a mess that looked to be made by living humans in a hurry. Throws and pillows were strewn about and the Weasley's clock had been knocked off the wall, though all the hands seemed to be working. Every Weasleys' hand pointed to the same area “mortal peril.”

 

“Well, that's informative,” Malfoy commented sarcastically.

 

“At least we know they're not dead,” Harry replied.

 

“Or at the dentist, whatever that is.”

 

Harry didn't feel like explaining what a dentist was, so he shrugged and dropped his bag on the nearest chair. “We might as well stay here for the night then.”

 

“Oh, no! I refuse to stay on the Weasley's home turf. Who knows what's infested this place?”

 

“You're welcome to go find your own camp for the night,” Harry said, expression thunderous. “I can't promise I'll hang around waiting on his highness to get his beauty sleep, though.”

 

“Fine, but if something kills me on your head be it,” Malfoy snarled at him, but he moved to the other side of the room and dropped his own bag. Harry ignored him once he was convinced the git was staying. With any luck, he would doze off and find a few hours of Malfoy-less peace.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It turned out Draco's snide comment had held an inkling of prophecy. He woke up slowly with the vague idea that something in his surroundings had awakened him. Keeping still, he strained his ears for any sound that might have triggered wakefulness. He heard nothing so he opened his eyes. Not even two feet in front of him stood a mauler wandering aimlessly through the room. Potter still lay asleep in the same chair he'd dropped into the night before.

 

Draco must have made an involuntary movement when he saw the mauler, because it immediately turned toward him and advanced with single-minded purpose. A scream ripped from his throat as he fumbled for his wand tucked into his boot. His sweaty fingers slipped on the handle and the mauler drew quickly closer. Draco shouted again, scrambling backward up against the wall.

 

Potter woke up at that exact moment, eyes focusing immediately on the threat, taking in Draco grabbing for his wand and failing. He leaped out of the chair, shouting and waving his arms like a madman. Draco's first thought was that Potter had gone crazy. He was a wizard! Why didn't he use his wand? But the shouting worked. The mauler lost interest in the less crazed Draco and turned it's attention on the much more attention-grabbing Potter.

 

Unfortunately, Potter seemed to have forgotten he was without his makeshift club, having not found a replacement for the table leg he left on the lift at the Ministry. Draco also had serious doubts that Potter remembered he even had a wand as the man vaulted over his chair just as the mauler reached him. Finally, Draco managed to grip his wand and took aim.

 

“Confringo!”

 

The mauler dropped, headless, to the floor and Potter stood there, suddenly without a crisis to avert.

 

“I told you this place was infested,” Draco reminded him, putting his wand away with a slightly shaky hand. “We're leaving before something else crawls out of the woodwork and tries to kill us.”

 

Potter didn't say anything, only nodded. Draco lead the way out of the rickety house – if you could call it that – and paused just outside the fence to wait for Potter to catch up. He didn't take long to join Draco, who held out his arm imperiously. Potter was leading this little band, he could find a more suitable place for them to stay where they wouldn't get eaten. He did notice Potter's forlorn look of longing the instant before they Disapparated.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry took them to Ron and Hermione's flat next. Nothing looked out of place until Harry came across the first bookshelf, completely empty. His best friends weren't there. He didn't bother to explore the rest of the rooms, grabbing Malfoy and leaving again. They dropped by several other flats, and the occasional house, with very little complaint from Malfoy. In fact, Malfoy hardly said anything at all, just allowed Harry to Side-Along him anywhere he wanted. He would have paused to consider this odd behavior, but Harry was too preoccupied with his friends' fates to worry about it.

 

No matter how hard he searched Harry couldn't find a single clue as to any of his friends' whereabouts. Finally, after the tenth stop, Malfoy resisted Harry's tugging him along. Worried for his friends, Harry turned around, fully prepared to start yelling at Malfoy before he could say something scathing, but Malfoy's expression gave him pause. The lines of his face were smoother and less pointy where they came together than usual and his eyes, normally a stormy grey, had softened to silver.

 

“They're not here, Potter,” Malfoy said, strangely gentle. “I'm certain your friends are alright. There haven't been any signs of struggle. Perhaps, instead of concentrating on finding people perfectly capable of taking care of themselves in dangerous situations, we should focus on making sure we survive to meet them again.”

 

Harry bowed his head, suddenly ashamed of his behavior. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted.

 

“Of course I'm right!” Malfoy agreed, back to his usual confident self. “Now let's find someplace that has food. We're running low.”

 

Harry followed silently as Malfoy left the latest flat. He seemed to know where he was going, but Harry thought that was more an act than anything. An unexpected noise had Harry yanking him back against himself before Malfoy could make it through the door. Malfoy opened his mouth to protest hotly, but Harry covered it with his free hand and hissed in his ear.

 

“Quiet! There are people out there.”

 

Malfoy's wide eyes narrowed speculatively. Together, they listened carefully, straining to make out individual words, but the people were too far away. Harry thought there were probably four or five of them, all men. They were fairly large individuals if their deep, gruff voices were any indication.

 

Distantly, Harry could feel Malfoy's heart beating excitedly against his chest as he held the blond against him, hand still covering his mouth to keep him from talking. Malfoy didn't squirm in protest, so Harry didn't bother to release him, judging the potential noise too great a risk.

 

“That last group was such an easy score,” one of the voice guffawed as they drew nearer the flat Harry and Malfoy hid in. “It was pathetic. Not even a decent challenge in them!”

 

“It's a wonder they survived the first wave,” another voice agreed. “They deserved what they got for being so weak.”

 

The entire group started laughing uproariously, unconcerned with potential undead threats. Harry's arm tightened angrily around Malfoy's waist. His companion patted his arm in warning, whether he was telling him not to attack the men or reminding Harry that he needed to breathe Harry wasn't sure. Either way, he got the message and loosened his grip on Malfoy, but he didn't release him.

 

Finally, Harry judged the group was far enough away not to be a direct threat to the two of them and let Malfoy go. The other man made a big show of straightening his shirt and smoothing his hair. Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

 

“I think it would be wise to avoid those men,” Malfoy suggested.

 

“They don't sound very friendly, no.”

 

Malfoy grinned. “Look at that. We're agreeing already.”

 

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They found a small abandoned house on the edge of town. Potter insisted on searching it thoroughly before he allowed either of them to relax. Draco complained bitterly, following him from room to room until the prat had satisfied his inner Auror. Therefore, it shouldn't have been a surprise when Potter started yelling at him after one snide comment too far.

 

“I told you there was nothing here.”

 

“You know what, Malfoy? I'm sick of your crap! Do you ever shut up or does that mouth run the wizarding royalty channel all day long?”

 

“Like you're any better, Potter! I didn't drag you all over the country looking for Merlin only knows who!” Draco shouted, leaning toward Potter angrily.

 

“Excuse me for caring about what happens to my friends, unlike a certain git who shall go unnamed,” Potter snarled.

 

Draco hissed an intake of breath, forcing the hurt away so Potter wouldn't see it. “Someone didn't given me a chance to check on my own friends and family,” he accused icily. That gave Potter pause and, to his credit, he did look guilty.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, ducking his head. “Is there somewhere we can go tomorrow? Someone you want to look for?”

 

Well, Potter did know when to admit to his wrongdoings Draco would give him that. He sighed and allowed the anger to drain out of him, too tired to keep it up.

 

“No. Father's in Azkaban and Mother moved to France not long after the war,” he admitted.

 

“What about friends?”

 

“None that I talk to anymore. Most of them left the country around the same time as Mother. Those that didn't go to Azkaban at least.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Potter said again.

 

“Don't worry. Just forget about it.”

 

Draco laid down facing away from Potter. He didn't feel like watching Potter stare at him pityingly tonight.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Potter was quiet the next morning, probably still indulging in some self-flagellation as punishment for his insensitivity the previous night. Draco decided to let him for a few more hours. It wasn't like he desperately needed a conversational partner or anything. They ate, re-packed their bags, and were on their way within the hour.

 

They spent the day scavenging, careful of hidden maulers. The damn things were surprisingly silent until they caught the scent of fresh prey. Draco dispatched several himself with his new signature spell. Once he killed one sneaking up behind Potter. The shock-widened green eyes cheered Draco up considerably, especially once Potter realized that Draco hadn't actually been aiming at him. Potter returned the favor not an hour later, slamming a mauler's head into the wall until it collapsed just before it would have bitten Draco.

 

Rocky history aside, he and Potter worked well together. If only they didn't have to talk to each other on occasion, they would get along swimmingly. Interesting how an apocalypse could change one's opinion of a person. Of course, there were still opinions that would never change, Draco's opinions on lumbering imbeciles for example.

 

He and Potter had decided to return to the small house they'd used the night before. When they got there, however, the group of thugs they'd heard a few days before outside the flat were waiting. Draco knew they were the same men because of the voices. They clearly didn't know how to speak at a level that was any lower than deafening.

 

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” one of them said. Draco assumed he was the leader.

 

“Looks like a couple little lambs wandering into the lion's den,” said another.

 

“Actually, he is a lion,” Draco quipped, jerking a thumb at Potter. “I'm more of a snake, apparently.”

 

“Malfoy,” Potter hissed at him. Draco ignored him, preferring to watch the thugs try to make sense of his comment. He could tell it continued to escape them when the leader chose to dismiss it and jump right to making demands instead.

 

“We know you've been scavenging food all day. We were watching.”

 

“Good for you,” Draco said sarcastically. “What has that got to do with us?”

 

“We're hungry. Hand over all you got and we'll think about letting you stay the night,” the leader growled threateningly. Draco felt more than saw Potter's hand fall to his wand. “No weapons! Do we have a deal?”

 

Somehow, Draco had managed to make himself the bargainer. Well, he had been trained for such a circumstance... mostly. “No. I have a counteroffer. My companion and I keep the food we gathered and leave you alive and whole.”

 

“You are awfully confident you could take all five of us, runt. What makes you so special?”

 

Draco grinned the evil grin he hadn't used since fifth year. “Not me,” he jerked his head toward Potter, who had unsheathed his wand and aimed it at the leader. “Him. I've seen him take out ten dark wizards in less than six seconds. He's the best Auror the Ministry had. Do you really think someone like you would even cause him to break a sweat?”

 

The regular thugs exchanged fearful glances with each other. Their leader noticed and bared his teeth at Draco and Potter. “Go. Before I change my mind,” he ordered. His voice wavered with barely contained fury. Draco gave him a mocking bow and departed with Potter on his heels.

 

“You shouldn't have taunted them like that, Malfoy,” Potter whispered. “They'll be after us now.”

 

“Don't worry about it, Potter. It's taken care of.”

 

Potter didn't look convinced.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry was just returning to his and Malfoy's second choice for shelter when he realized something wasn't quite right. Entering cautiously, he dropped the load of firewood he'd gone to collect and looked around. Nothing looked out of place. Malfoy's bag lay on the floor as if tossed there casually. That in itself was unusual, but not alarming. Harry was sure even Malfoy could feel lazy on occasion.

 

Then Harry's eyes fell on a slim piece of dark wood. He bent down to pick it up. Draco's wand! That was cause for concern. Draco wouldn't have left that lying around, especially while in a dangerous area. He'd grown up a wizard and a wizard's wand was as much a part of him as his arm or leg.

 

“Dammit, Draco! I warned you about taunting them,” he hissed to himself. “Just hold on. I'm on my way.”

 

Harry was back at the first house in thirty minutes. He'd Apparated just far enough away that they wouldn't hear him coming and jogged the rest of the way, stopping frequently to listen for sounds of his discovery. The thugs hadn't even posted sentries. Either they were that stupid or they had planned a trap. Harry was more inclined to think the latter.

 

He sidled up to the house and pressed himself against the brick, sliding along the wall until he came to a window. Inside he could see Draco tied to a chair, blood running from the corner of his mouth. He looked awake and aware, so Harry thought the injury was probably only a minor one, likely a bitten tongue or something similar. No one was in the room with him. That was odd. Surely even these guys would leave someone to guard the bait?

 

“Bloody hell!” Harry muttered under his breath. “Are they really that stupid? Or are they – ”

 

“Right behind you?” A gravelly voice suggested from behind him.

 

Harry dropped into a forward somersault, dodging away from the voice only to roll right into a solid body. This one grabbed him before he could scramble out of the way. He struggled even though he knew it was futile. The guy who had him was the biggest and strongest of the lot.

 

“I'm starting to think your friend wasn't be entirely honest when he said you were the Ministry's best Auror,” the leader said conversationally.

 

“He forgot to add the 'in training' part,” Harry explained. “The past couple days have been hard on his memory.”

 

“Hm... I think it best we take you to him so that you might remind your friend not to lie,” the leader suggested, snapping his fingers at the man holding Harry.

 

They trudged back into the house, the other thugs bringing rope and chair to secure Harry with. He fought and struggled as three of them held him down and the fourth one tied his arms to the chair behind his back. The grunts left their leader and two prisoners alone as soon as Harry was secured. The leader stood casually, acting as though they were having a casual conversation over tea.

 

“I don't appreciate being lied to,” he said. “And I especially don't appreciate when people don't contribute to the group.”

 

“Contribute!” Draco shouted, outraged. “It's not even our group!”

 

“Silence! Consider your crimes and the possible punishments. I will return to administer them within the hour.”

 

The leader left them alone, slamming the door behind him. Harry sat still, trying to listen over Draco's outraged outburst. After several long minutes, he decided they weren't being watched or listened in on. The thugs had actually left them alone.

 

“That was their second mistake,” he muttered.

 

“What?”

 

Harry looked up, straight into Draco's blazing grey eyes. He sat angrily across from Harry, fuming.

 

“They've left us alone,” Harry explained. “That was their second mistake.”

 

“And their first?”

 

“Putting us in the same room together.”

 

Draco was grinning now and Harry couldn't help but grin back. “Any chance they made a third?”

 

“They do say things happen in threes,” Harry said.

 

“Don't tell me they didn't bother taking your wand!” Draco said with disbelief.

 

“No, they took mine.”

 

“Then...?”

 

Harry grinned wider. “They didn't take yours.”

 

“You have my wand on you?”

 

“Yeah. There's just one problem,” Harry admitted.

 

“What?”

 

“I can't reach it.”

 

“Well, where is it?” Draco asked eagerly. Harry blushed.

 

“It's in the waistband of my jeans, under my shirt.”

 

Draco didn't seem to care, just jerked his head in a 'come here' gesture. Harry scooted his chair closer, trying not to make to much noise. The wooden chair legs on wood flooring didn't help matters any. Finally, Harry dragged himself over so that he was back-to-back with Draco.

 

“It's in the back on my left side,” Harry told him.

 

“Hold on. I'm working on it,” Draco said absently, attention focused solely on the task at hand.

 

Harry's breath hitched when Draco's cool fingertips brushed against the warm skin of his back. Fortunately, Draco didn't seem to notice. It felt like an eternity later before Draco finally found his wand and grabbed hold of the handle. He still had to pull it free of Harry's jeans, which, of course, involved a lot of knuckles brushing teasingly across increasingly sensitive skin.

 

“Got it!” Draco crowed in triumph.

 

“Great! Cut us loose,” Harry said.

 

Draco hesitated for only a second before casting a cutting spell. The ropes around Harry's wrists split and fell away like a whisper. Harry stood up, quickly pushing his chair out of the way and kneeling where it had been. He dug his fingers into the knots binding Draco's wrists, pulling and tugging until Draco was free. The blond stood like the chair he'd been sitting in was on fire. When Harry stood up again Draco was rubbing at his wrist with his free hand, the other clutching his wand tightly.

 

“Up for an Unlocking Charm?” Harry asked with a grin. Draco returned it with one of his own, a diabolical smirk Harry remembered from their days at Hogwarts. It was much more enticing when he wasn't opposing Draco.

 

“Hell yeah. I owe the big one anyway,” Draco said. He went on when he saw Harry's confused look. “He punched me in the face.”

 

“Let's go.”

 

Draco unlocked the door and stepped aside to allow Harry to slip out first. Together they crept down the corridor, Harry keeping an eye and ear out for any of the goons that might be wandering around. He and Draco passed several doors, all leading to empty rooms, until they reached the one at the end of the hall. Harry could hear them laughing and arguing from half way down the corridor.

 

“Do you think you could summon my wand?” Harry whispered in Draco's ear. Absently, he noticed Draco shiver. “Last I saw, the leader had it.”

 

“When I do, they'll know we're here. We'll have to be ready to move as soon as I cast the spell,” Draco said.

 

“Got it. Whenever you're ready.”

 

Draco raised his wand and pointed it at the leader, careful to stay within the relative safety of the shadows. “Accio Harry Potter's wand!”

 

Harry's wand shot towards them, but he and Draco weren't the only ones to notice it. The leader realized what was happening first, shouting for his gang to recapture the prisoners. Harry thought he heard something about making sure their wands were taken away this time, but he ignored it. Instead, he took a handful of swift steps forward to meet the first thug that came at him. In his peripheral vision he saw Draco taking on the big one like he'd planned.

 

The first thug went down with a quick stunner and Harry was on to the next one. This one was slightly more clever. Harry had to dance around him and dodge several punches. One or two got through, but they were only glancing blows. He ducked the last blow and landed a swift kick to the thug's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Another stunner took him out of the fight.

 

Harry returned his attention to the room at large and found that Draco had already taken out the fourth goon. Now they converged on the retreating leader. He was babbling, swearing to leave them alone, let them go, and even give them all the supplies they'd stolen from other survivors if only they'd show mercy. Harry didn't even bother asking Draco's opinion. He could sense what it was and they were in agreement.

 

Two red jets of light shot toward him in the same instant and the leader slammed into the wall behind him, slumping to the floor. A trickle of blood leaked down his face, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He just glanced quickly around, grabbed a lumpy bundle of fabric, and dragged Draco into a Side-Along back to their shelter.

 

“We can't stay,” Harry said, grabbing his bag he'd left on the floor by the door. Draco rushed to grab his as well, returning to Harry's side and latching onto his arm.

 

“Agreed.”

 

Harry Disapparated again, reappearing in a dark forest clearing. Draco looked around curiously for a moment before shrugging and dropping his bag on the ground. Harry unloaded his burdens as well and turned to face his companion, sensing his attention was required. They stood there silently, Harry tilting his head to the side curiously. He thought he saw the corner of Draco's mouth twitch in an attempt at a smile. Finally, Draco spoke.

 

“You came for me,” he said. Harry knew it was a statement, but he could sense the question in Draco's tone.

 

“Of course I did, Draco,” Harry said softly and kissed him.

 

His hand came up to curl around Draco's neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. The other arm wrapped around Draco's waist and held him tight against Harry's body. Draco went willingly, melting into Harry's touch and eagerly leaning into him. Harry allowed his lips to part slightly, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing Draco's bottom lip. Draco moaned and opened his mouth to allow Harry access.

 

Harry didn't know how long they stood there kissing, but when he eventually pulled back for air he found they were now standing in a beam of moonlight. Draco's eyes glittered silver under the moon. They were silent for several moments, Draco and Harry both panting rather harder than necessary. Draco recovered first, gathering enough breath to force out half-strangled words.

 

“You called me Draco,” he said dazedly.

 

“Yes, I did,” Harry agreed.

 

“You kissed me.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Did you have a plan for staying out in the wilderness or did you expect us to sleep under the stars?” Draco asked, still half in a daze.

 

“In fact, I do have a plan,” Harry said and pointed to the lumpy bundle. “Tent.”

 

“Oh, good.”

  
Harry smiled and bent to retrieve the tent. Draco helped him pitch it, which took a good half hour longer than it had any right to until Harry remembered that he was a wizard with magical powers. Tent pitched, with some magical assistance, Harry ushered Draco inside. He crawled in after, sealing the flaps behind him, and settled down next to Draco. The other man rolled over until he faced Harry, scooting closer when Harry threw an arm over his waist and tugged gently. They fell asleep quickly, curled together and heads tucked into the bend where neck and shoulder meet. After all, there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and surviving in an apocalypse of the living dead is one of them.

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